


Demon in My View

by FreyaFallen



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Biting, Blood Drinking, Demon Dick, Demon Kylo Ren, F/M, Knotting, Marking, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Sleep Paralysis, Violent Sex, dubcon, extreme dubcon, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyaFallen/pseuds/FreyaFallen
Summary: Rey has had nightmares her whole life. But perhaps they are something more.
Relationships: Minor Rey/Poe Dameron, Past Finn/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 91
Collections: Monsters in Your Closet





	Demon in My View

**Author's Note:**

> Writing a second chapter at some point, but I like the way this one ends.

[](https://ibb.co/q90ynbZ)

She’d had them as long as she could remember, which was about twelve years. Rey had often wondered if he memories stopped there because it was too painful to think of _before_ , the days when she’d been a member of a family and maybe even loved. Perhaps the events leading to her entry into foster care were too horrific for a little girl to retain. All she remembered of before her first foster father took her in was screaming at the car as it drove away, begging for it to take her back to her mother.

That car dropped her at two other homes over the next eleven years of her life, to a place where the woman who watched her hardly left her recliner and everything stunk of cat piss, to the task manager who was now also her employer as well as the last foster parent she’d ever had. Upon turning eighteen, he’d started billing her. She still had a bed at least. 

Actually, it was a studio apartment over the garage now. The little bedroom in his house was for another foster. This way she wouldn’t disturb his house, had no access to his food, etc. Rent and utilities came out of her wages, but didn’t care; the little studio was _hers_. She’d actually helped build the damn thing before becoming its resident, and she was allowed to make upgrades as long as it cost him nothing. Rey had it all painted a warm sky blue with silver-white trim, and the faux-wood floors were grey, a floral patterned rug she’d found at a garage sale spanning half of it. The refrigerator and oven didn’t match, and the sink had been rescued from somewhere that left it dinged and stained, but everything worked. 

Her favorite part though was her bedroom set.

She had found it on Craigslist. A couple had been searching for people to help with their heavy lifting as they packed up their sprawling desert home to retire up north. They had to downsize. It was a whole weekend of work, dismantling furniture that was solid wood, packing up china cabinets that had had to be meticulously emptied and its contents lovingly wrapped. They’d paid her for her help and fed her pizza at midday. But it wasn’t until they realized they didn’t have space for their massive four poster bed that Rey lucked out. 

“It’s not an old set at all,” the woman, Karen, had said. “Maybe ten years old.” There was no way it would fit in their new home anyway. And they were due to leave in about twelve hours. The bed, heavy and burdensome as it was, had been saved for last. They’d have to leave it with the large items they were tossing. “Unless you’d like it, dear,” Karen added. “It’s a shame to throw it out.”

“Are you sure?” She’d eyed it covetously. Even in pieces, the bed was a sight. Rosewood pillars nine feet long and carved with vines and scrolls. The headboard stood taller than she did and the baseboard was heavy as her couch. The mattress wasn’t too old, just five years, and it was comfortable. There was also matching furniture; two night stands as large as her dresser, a dresser that came to her chin, a chaise lounge of all things (it and the headboard had matching leather cushioning), and an armoire. She’d had to call in a favor with her best friend to get it loaded into his trust and carried up the stairs to her studio, but it had been worth it.

With the money from the move, she’d splurged on bedding for it. It was all white because she’d read somewhere that while bedding made a room feel more luxurious. During _that time of the month_ she changed her sheets to black, but otherwise it was perfect, and she had always been good at getting out stains. Eight pillows, king sized to match the bed and each pair a little different, and sheer white drapery to swath her bed in mystery. Before leaving bed every morning she woke feeling like a princess on her cloud-soft bed, nested in the center of her plush mattress, buried amidst the perfection of bedding.

Every morning when she made it up again she’d slip her stuffed purple rabbit, the one remnant of her life before, in her spot for the day. 

A part of her had hoped the occurrences would vanish with the appearance of the incredible bed, but no such luck.

Most people grew out of nightmares, terrors, sleep paralysis, or so Rey understood; there had been a few years’ stretch where they got better, but they returned with a vengeance when she moved in with Plutt at fifteen. 

She’d been terrified, as implied by the name of the condition, woken with a scream stuck in her throat, but she couldn’t force her eyes open, or her fingers to move. Her body wouldn’t obey her.

And the dingy mattress had seemed to dip, the metal frame creaking, hot breath laughing against her ear. Tears had leaked from her eyes and her heart had strained to escape the cage of her ribs, but she couldn’t move. She could do nothing.

Until a sob ripped from her throat and the heavy presence disappeared.

Nightmares were far more common than the terrors or the paralysis, but with those she was safe when she woke. One or two nights a month she endured them throughout, and then they’d vanish (usually), leaving only the need for constant coffee and an early bedtime in their wake. But the paralysis made her feel mad.

Her counselors, before the state stopped paying for them, had told her it was all probably a holdover from childhood trauma. She’d had enough of it, as had most kids in the system, but sometimes Rey felt like it was more than her overactive brain at work.

Sometimes she could almost see whatever it was that laughed at her in those too-still moments.

The young woman was brushing her teeth, preparing for another day down in the shop. As she spat out the frothy remnants of the paste and swept back deep ash brown hair, a shadow flashed behind her. Rey’s toothbrush clattered to the sink and she spun, furiously scanning her closet-sized bathroom. The shower curtain was still open from when she’d left it that way last night, the door was open too. There was absolutely no possible way someone could have been in this room, let alone moved in it, without her being aware of them. The rapid thrum of her pulse didn’t care for the logic and continued throughout her morning routine.

Hair combed into a bun, thrown on shorts and tank that might look odd with her working boots, but would be invisible beneath her coveralls anyway. Those were added last, the vague brown-green-grey washing out even her warm skin. It was the smallest size available, so she had to roll and pin the sleeves and pant legs. Her work belt was the only thing that kept her feeling like a marshmallow that had been dropped in the dirt after achieving perfect meltiness. It cinched her waist so the material didn’t puff out around her. 

As Rey finished her work prep, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled to attention. Her gaze lingered over the corners and shadows of the studio, but she saw nothing. 

If there was one upgrade Rey desperately wanted above any other it was a bath. After a day in the stifling heat, sliding under engines and having grease and dust fall into her face, nothing sounded as luxurious as a long, hot bath to ease the muscles. Instead she had to settle for showers, but she made them as spa-like as she could.

First came the oil diffuser with its relaxing lavender scent, then the music set to a classical station on her phone app. Said phone was docked to both charge and play her music at a moderate level that no one would ever hear over the hum of Plutt’s cheap appliances. It was just loud enough on its stand atop her dresser that she could hear it the three foot distance to the shower even over the steady flow of water from her showerhead. 

That had been one of her best investments thus far. It had something like eight different settings from trickling water like rain to a heady pulse that helped her relax in ways just the clean heat could not.

The water was almost sharp as she twisted to that setting, her nipples hardening as it pounded against them. Rey let the water spray directly onto them, the areolas tightening as the soft nubs hardened into peaks. She bit her lips and leaned against the slick tile wall, releasing an inaudible groan. Slowly, in sharp little circles, she skimmed down her belly and to the thatch of curls at her core. With no one to impress and a body usually covered from neck to toes, she never did more than a trim to her bikini line. It was softer this way, more sensitive too. The water against the curls was as much a part of this ritual as anything else.

And then it hit the nub between her lips that had started hardening when she'd started the spray. Her empty hand plucked and twisted her nipples reverently, imaging the large, warm hands of a faceless man. _Rough_ , she thought. He would be rough, her imaginary lover. He’d shove her against the shower wall, lifting for Rey to wrap her legs around his hips, and he’d pound into her as furiously as the water.

She scratched down her stomach, wishing for those calloused hands instead, and plied herself open with two fingers in her sticky, wet heat. They pumped in time with the the water’s beat, her hips canting desperately into them, her sting at her clit feeding into the impending orgasm.

Rey would be loud, so loud he would have to cover her mouth as they fucked. His big hand would cover her nose too, so she held her breath as he’d force her to. In her mind, his big cock was playing against that sweet spot inside herself she couldn’t hit right with her too-short fingers. He would split her with it, fucking so hard and deep her stomach would move with it. And when he came, he’d shoot his cum deep inside her, set off by the fluttering of her own orgsasm.

She shook as she cried out, imagining herself staring up at him, into his eyes. She opened heavy lids and saw a flash of copper as she came. Glowing copper eyes seeing into her soul. 

Rey panted against the wall, slowly phasing back into herself. Her imagination was too much these days if she not only gave her fake lover copper eyes, imagined she saw them as she got off. She shook her head, pushed sopping hair from her forehead, and finished cleaning up.

Rey spent the evening in relative indulgence, curled up on her couch with a five dollar pint of ice cream that had chocolate covered potato chips sprinkled throughout and a book she’d been dying to spend time with. Oh, and her rosé. It was the perfect way to unwind.

Half a bottle and a full pint later, she was sated and sleepy. The wine glass and the spoon were rinsed and set in the sink, the wine went back into the fridge, and Rey cuddled up with her stuffed rabbit on the bed.

_Her lover was in her dreams that night, pale hands forming out of the darkness to tilt up her chin. She could just make out those copper eyes and the barest suggestion of strangely handsome features. The large nose and luscious lips, perfect white teeth bared in a cheshire smile. He was built on a different scale than she was, every part of him heavier, wider, longer than expected though she could not see him. His hot lips covered her throat and she cried out, clutching the large, shadowed body to her. He was burning through her, the weight of his cock against her stomach._

_“Please!”_

_Her lover purred in approval of her plea and rolled his hips against her core. Her head fell back as his nails sank into her scalp and back. “Do you want me, little one?”_

_“Yes,” she groaned against a rough cheek as steaming breath whispered in her ear._

_“Invite me in.”_

_He was trailing toothy kisses down her jaw and throat and collarbone._

_“Yes, please.”_

_His teeth scraped at one breast. “Once and once and one again. Tell me thrice. Do you, sweet Rey, welcome me to your home, to your body?” His nose circled one taut nipple, lips whispering against her skin._

_“Yes, yes, yes,” she urged, shoulders rolling back to present her high, modest breasts to him._

_“And you offer yourself wholly, without reservation?” When she nodded, he shook her and sank his nails more deeply into her flesh. “Say it. Do you offer yourself to me?”_

_“Yes, please. I do.”_

_The shadowed heat hummed against her breast bone. “Then I come to you.” And he engulfed her nipple in a torrent of swirling tongue and eager lips._

_He was burning into her, branding her with teeth and claws, both bleeding molten lust into her veins until she was torn with it, crying out in his arms, a taut bow in steely arms. He growled into her and thrust his long, bare cock against her stomach and she could feel sticky secretions running from her clit to her navel, and she fell apart at the touch._

The days following her wet dream were uneventful. Rey woke and readied for work, spent her day in the shop, trudged up to her studio to shower, ate, slept. Rinse and repeat every day. When she came home Saturday night, she finally broke the routine. Sunday was her one day off and she intended to be recovering from a well-deserved hangover during it.

After her customary shower to relieve herself of the dirt, grease, and grit of the day, Rey blow dried her hair and swept it into a high-fashion ponytail complement of a YouTube tutorial. She applied makeup while still naked, leaving over her sink to perfect the wing of her eyeliner and paint a perfect red pout across her lips. When she finally dressed, it was a squeeze into her beloved little black dress. Her long bronze legs were showcased to perfection by the slinky short skirt that further had a wide slit up her right thigh. Spaghetti straps and dipped vee neckline, low back, and light satiny material. It was perfect for a hot summer night in the desert. She slipped on strappy black fuck-me heels that elevated her to a more moderate height, misted herself with a delicate jasmine scent, and checked her phone.

Her ride was only a few minutes away, just enough time to take a pre-game shot of cheap tequila and scarf down a protein bar. Between her hard work in the yard and garage, and her limited budget she had maintained a waifish figure, though the dress accented what curves she had beautifully. 

She left the studio apartment with a glance around to make sure everything was good for when she came home, then set her sights of having a good night.

It was a _great_ night. Rey had done shots with her friends at the bar upon entering and that pushed her to a slight buzz as it settled in her bloodstream with the one from earlier. She dragged Rose, shorter, paler, curvier, out to the dance floor with her. It was always more fun to dance with girlfriends. And Rose looked amazing, a really perfect counterpart. Her black hair hung straight and sleek above her shoulders and she wore a red dress with a form-fitted bodice and flouncy short skirt. 

They swayed and moved in time to the music, the music pumping through so loud their ears would be hollow tomorrow. The guys brought them drinks before joining in. Finn was her dearest friend and she danced with him as freely as she did Rose, but his buddy Poe she'd only met a handful of times.

He was good looking though, with his dark curls and easy smile. Boyish and roguish all at once. As she progressed toward drunkenness, she allowed him liberties. They were closer, close enough she felt the thrum of the base through him when she planted her palm on his chest. His own settled on her waist and he pulled her closer as the songs transitioned. 

“Want another drink or are you good?” His stumbled cheek brushed the side of her face and his breath tickled her ear. She thought a second, mentally checking over her drunk level. It had been an hour, why not?

Rey leaned up to murmur against his cheek, “I could use another one.”

Poe nodded, stroked his hand to her hip, then headed to the bar. 

As she watched him lean over the bar and shoot her another disarming smile, Rose bumped her arm. “Someone is into you.”

Rey sucked her teeth, brows twitching together. “He’s not just being nice?”

“Well, he is. He’s nice to everyone. But he’s also super into you.” Rose leaned against her, adding, “He told Finn on the way here. Apparently he was nervous coming out tonight.”

“No way.” The guy had said something to make the woman waiting beside him slap his arm with a playful grin across her face. He seemed to charm anyone who talked to him. Good looking, funny, confident, capable. He was the golden boy at work, promoted twice already and put in charge of major projects. Finn was in a different division but looked up to him all the same. It baffled Rey how this smooth, successful man could be nervous over her. She ate the cheap ramen you could buy at two a buck, and had found her name brand heels at Goodwill. 

When he reappeared with her gin and grapefruit juice cocktail, she couldn’t help but grin. He’d remembered her ridiculous drink of choice. “What do I owe you?” She murmured it into his neck, taking in the heady scent of dry cleaned and starched shirt, cologne, and sweat.

Poe shook his head. “I offered. It’s all good.” He didn’t attempt to wheedle closer to her or anything. After a few songs wherein she sipped her drink and swayed on her stilettos she set her drink on the table nearest and pulled him closer into their little group. She rested his hand on her hip and smiled shyly.

He took the hint, brushing his body against hers as they danced. His arm curled around her when she turned her ass to him and rolled against him. But he didn’t grind his dick against her like a teenager. A part of Rey wondered if she could push him to lust, but when she glanced up into his dark eyes she shivered. His pupils were drowning out the color. He was already there, just good at not showing it.

When the music and alcohol were at their height buzzing through her, Rey turned in his arms to meet his gaze. She slowly leaned in, hands smoothing over the cotton of his button up, and planted a soft kiss against his lip.

His hands tightened on her, tugging her closer before running over her back. When his tongue flitted against the seam of her lips, she expected to feel pleasure.

A scream tore from her throat and her fingers fisted his expensive shirt. Sharp, cruel claws razored across her back from right shoulder to left hip. Her nerves were crying out from sharpened hooks and the thought floated through her that her white bones might peek through.

“Rey?” Only Poe’s warm hands kept her upright as the worst of the pain seceded. “Rey, what’s wrong? Finn, Finn!” He hugged her tight with one arm and tapped his friend’s shoulder with the other. Words all wound together as he spoke with his friend; Rey was sobbing into his chest, wincing at the residual pain. The journey to Poe’s car and then her apartment was all a blur as she was too focused on moving slowly lest she upset the wounds no one seemed to see. Shouldn’t they be bleeding? Shouldn’t someone have seen whatever psychopath slashed across her body? How was her dress still intact?

Her friends all wanted to help her tuck in for the night, Finn smoothing back her hair before saying goodnight. As the door clicked shut, Rey rolled onto her side and pulled her knees to her chest, softly crying herself to sleep.

_The bed dipped behind her, the gentle ruffling of cloth sliding over cloth susurrating. She couldn’t move besides the autonomous breaths keeping oxygen flowing through her veins, feeding her muscles, the same muscles refusing to obey her as she pleaded for them to move._

_She was locked in the darkness, the shadows beneath her eyelids conjuring little bursts of light. Her room felt much smaller in the nest of her blankets, her awareness limited to herself and whatever lurked behind her. When a weight settled on her waist, she wanted to cry, wanted to throw herself from the bed and run down to the road to scream for help._

_The weight rolled her onto her tender back, her limbs splayed so that her hand brushed something foreign._

_It was hovering over her, she could feel it. Its heartbeat was a counterpart to hers, it's breaths hotter and stirring around her. It was vast. The intensity of its presence increased until she felt the blow of his nostrils. He perfumed her with tangerine and clove and something vaguely rotten beneath the citrus and spice. Wet velvet skittered against her mouth and then the looming darkness hummed._

_“I was lenient.” The voice rattled her bones and twisted in the forge of her belly. “But you had to push, didn't you.” A skim of hard knuckles against her cheek. “You promised yourself to me. You invited me in.”_

_She could feel sharp indents shushing along her clothes, hear the vinyl scratch of claws on the cheap material._

_“I had hoped your word was enough, but it seems I must claim you beyond denial.” With a deafeningly loud rip, her dress fell in tattered slack around her, cool air pebbling her nipples. Her panties, cheap lace from the sales bin, went next. The creature hummed, steam trailing a path down her body as it inspected her. A stroke over the tight curls at the apex of her legs. “My pretty little offering.” Lips mouthed kisses on her thighs. Heavy palms spread her legs wide, then the velvet heat from before licked a stripe across her cunt from perineum to clit. She’d have moaned, but she was still horrifyingly locked within herself._

Open your eyes, Rey, _she begged herself. But they did not obey._

_The being above her spread her wide, pinpoint claws skittering down her arms, her breasts, stomach, hips. “My beautiful little mortal. You are mine, aren’t you?” She urged herself to speak, to move, to do something. All that came was the smallest whimper. “That’s right. Don’t worry, sweet. I’ll teach you.”_

_A hot, silky-hard length brushed over her center. It-- he-- tugged her thighs to his own hips. He was as hot as the depths of Hell, his fire radiating over Rey so she was slick with sweat. “Wet for me already. But you’ve always scurried for little any crumb of affection you could find, haven’t you, my little scavenger?” Hands roved her possessively, palming her breasts and squeezing nipples between thumb and forefinger until another strained whine elicited from her throat. He was taking over her body, and only his touch evoked reaction. He was rocking against her and now her walls were fluttering._

_“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Dripping little cunt so ripe for me. Only me.” Something pointed swirled at her entrance. “I’ll make you mine. Forever.”_

_With that final word, he thrust against her and her stillness broke with one desperate wail._

_Rey’s body arched off the bed, eyes popping open. The being grabbed her arms, slammed her back to the mattress in a steely grip. She was sobbing as her core pulsed around the inhuman length inside of her. He held her still against him, transferring both fragile wrists to one hand and petting her with the other._

_As she calmed, her tears lessening and her chest heaving steadily, Rey turned her gaze upon him at last. He was massive. His one hand easily engulfed her wrists. His torso filled her vision, looming over her and swathed in shadow. Thick, corded arms, chiseled pecs and wide shoulders. His jaw thrust from the darkness, plush lips wet from a forked tongue that flitted across them as she stared. His smile was crooked, his nose long, and his eyes gleaming copper._

_“There we are, scavenger. Yes, take your fill. Here I am. All for you, my sweet little mortal.” His gravelly voice settled over her like a blanket. “I’m going to move now. I’m going to make you mine.”_

_His hips rocked and that hook she’d felt at her entrance pumped against her cervix. Rey sobbed wretchedly, but the being above her stroked back her hair and shushed._

_“I know, little human. You’ll learn; in time you’ll like it, love it, crave it.” Impossibly there was more of him to take, and he made room for his length in long, slow strokes so she could feel every ridged inch._

_It was like nothing that had been inside her before. Not the smooth silicone toys she used on herself, not Finn’s uncircumsized cock that had been her first (amidst their sticky fumblings in the back of his car, best friends and lovers for first explorations, their trust never shaking as they became closer than foster siblings, closer than blood, nearly two halves of the same broken piece), not the few others of their different shapes and shades and sizes. Bumps played along her tender entrance and teased the swollen flesh within, pressing into her in ways she’d never known possible. And, oh, that hooked end._

_Once he was flush against her his pace increased. The hooked end would catch her cervix on each thrust and she would groan against him, weeping. His clawed free hand roamed and grabbed and twisted and rubbed until her body was hyper aware of every sensation. He’d huddle himself over Rey to suck in a nipple, forked ends tickling around the nub, fangs threatening the tender mounds of her breasts._

_He ground against her in such a way that his pubis smashed her clit, and his rigid, ridged length was driving her into oblivion. Pain merged with pleasure to run in shivers down her scalp to her spine, warming down to her tingling toes. “Yes, my sweet scavenger. Take it.” The beast pushed her long legs up and over his shoulders, plowing into her, and it became too much. She screamed, every muscle taut, and he plunged to her throat. The sharp canines that had teased before slid easily into her smooth flesh, and he sucked until she felt as though her soul would writhe through her veins until all that remained would be the terrible pleasure electrifying her nerves._

_Just when her own fluttering walls began to slow, he groaned, flattening over her. His arms wrapped her close, her own useless above her head, hard body massaging aching breasts. His cock seemed to pulse and grow just where that sweet spot existed inside her. The pressure and his deep pumping, seed hot as his end spat it against her cervix, all set another wave of bone-aching pleasure through her. She scrambled at his back, her nails digging into him, her hips stuttering against his until he stilled within her and only the residual flutters and pulses tapered between them._

_When Rey could think again, the velvet soft tongue was lapping at the juncture between throat and shoulder where he’d bitten. He was purring into her as he licked up her tongue and his black hair tickled at her._

_He looked up from his drinking, copper eyes heavy lidded. “You are marked now,” he growled. “Tied to me til the day of your death, which I promise will not come until I desire it.”_

_She blinked down at him, dizzy with blood loss and afterglow. “What… who are you?”_

_Those soft, red lips quirked in a deadly smile. “I am he who takes his pleasure from flesh, the prince of unholy lust who celebrates the union of the daughters of man and the fallen brethren of heaven.”_

_Rey, who had gone to church in only one foster home, one where the guardian firmly believed that if one spared the rod they would spoil the child, did not know him._

_He chuckled. “Oh, my sweet innocent, how I will relish your corruption. My name is long and ancient. But you may call me Kylo.” He returned to her throat and feasted there until her body slumped in his arms and exhaustion overcame her._

**Author's Note:**

> So yes, this demon has a strange dick. The fallout from the marking comes next. 
> 
> Also, feel free to follow what social media I have; you can find it on my carrd in my profile.


End file.
